


Written In Blood - Main Character Yeosang

by halateez



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Other, characters will die! just so yall know, horror/thriller ??, it's my first ao3 fic let's hope it doesnt suck, no sexual shit, only mature content is violence and swearing, quite bloody and gory, this is like demon stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halateez/pseuds/halateez
Summary: - summary is a teaser, it's the first chapter of the book!! it was too long to fit into here -
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. S U M M A R Y

**Author's Note:**

> This is the "summary" (it's more like a teaser of what will happen later in the book but hopefully it hooks you in)!!
> 
> This is my first fic on ao3. I hope y'all enjoy it~
> 
> Warning: it. is. bloody.

The sleek, silver dagger was embedded deeply into Yeosang’s side, blood soaking through his shirt like ink would seep through paper. His eyes flickered to the hand- one that didn’t belong to him- still clutching the hilt; its thin, bony fingers were smeared with his own blood. He winced, his heart aching with betrayal as low, sinister laughter echoed against the soot covered walls. It sounded so familiar, but it was unrecognizable…the laugh that once used to remind him of dandelion seeds floating peacefully under the light of the sun- it was unrecognizable. It taunted him, as if mocking him for ever mistaking the sound of evil as the sound of purity. The man hunched over Yeosang’s limp figure was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’d walked right into the clutches of its bared claws.

The knife withdrew with a sickening sound. A groan of pain bubbled in the lump of his throat, hoarse as it traveled past his lips. The man held an inkwell against Yeosang’s wound, his free hand clasping his waist right above the gash in his side and squeezing mercilessly. Yeosang screamed in agony, veins of black clotting his vision. The man merely laughed as the small inkwell filled with the thick, red liquid.

His breath came out in pained wheezes, his lungs struggling to keep him conscious by inhaling as much oxygen as they could. He watched as the slim figure of his attacker slunk back like a cat, walking over to the table perched against the wall. The dagger glinted in his hand, painted in bright red. Dipping the blade into the inkwell, he crouched over the table top, writing something Yeosang couldn’t see onto the paper, all the while murmuring “you’re mine, now…mine…” under his breath. 

“Y-” Yeosang croaked, the action of speaking taking a toll on his weak, injured body. “You’re insane.”

A cold laugh erupted from the man’s chest, his head thrown back in an arch- and for a split second, Yeosang could recognize the dear friend he had come to love so dearly. But it lasted for less than a moment before the man let his head hang off to the side, peering at Yeosang with a crazed smile and eyes filled with so much darkness it sent chills down his spine. “You wanted to save me, didn’t you?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper- gentle in the most mocking of ways. He took slow, menacing steps towards him, stopping at Yeosang’s feet. He knelt before him, tilting his head with his lips turned up slightly at the corners, the darkness in his eyes unmoving. 

Yeosang stiffened under his gaze as he leaned closer, his lips spreading wider and wider across his face until it set into a bone-chilling grin. “You’ve saved me. You’ve saved me for good.” He laughed out loud. Tears stung at Yeosang’s eyes, threatening to fall. The man stood up with a spin, dancing around the room with crazed joy, singing the words “you’ve saved me, you’ve saved me~” repeatedly with glee. 

All Yeosang could do was watch- watch as his world fell apart before him, watch as his eyelids weighed like lead.

Watch, until darkness consumed his consciousness and his heart.


	2. T W O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an introduction of sorts!! That's why the chapter is so short, but I promise they'll get longer lolol. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: swearing, mentions of mental disorders (schizophrenia) 
> 
> NOT PROOFREAD

_ Click, click, click.... _

_ I need to go, I need to go- _

_ Click click click  _

_ This is too much, I can’t- I have to go! I have to go! _

_ Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick- _

“Cut it out!” 

Yeosang’s head snapped up, shoulders hunching under the fiery glare of his classmate in front of him. He gulped, setting the pen that he’d been fiddling with down on his desk. “S-sorry…”

His classmate rolled her eyes before turning back to the front, leaving Yeosang still trembling from the shock of being pulled out of his thoughts so suddenly. He was thankful, though; the voice in his head constantly telling him to run, to leave, telling him that he’s in danger, he needs to go-

He took a deep breath.

It haunted him.

He didn’t really know why. All he knew was that it started from his seventeenth birthday.

He’d been staring at the candle nestled firmly into the cake, the wax dripping slowly from the heat of the fire. The lone flame captivated his focus, the laughing and talking around him muting out, replaced by the sound of whispers; he couldn’t make out what they were saying until they got louder, the blood in his veins running cold as the flame started to grow with the volume of the voices, his breath coming in short, panicked huffs.

_ “He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming-” _

Yeosang’s mind filled with dozens of voices repeating these words in a mantra, and the world around him started to spin.  _ What’s happening to me? Who are you? I’m scared- _

The voices suddenly hushed into silence, leaving Yeosang frozen in his place, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. A lone voice whispered into his ear, his body freezing in fear.

_ “He’s here.” _   
  
A shriek shook him out of his thoughts, his eyes travelling around the room in shock. The tablecloth caught on fire, and it kept spreading; from the cloth, to the table legs, to the chairs- 

“Yeosang!”

His head turned to the side when his friend pulled him back, just as a burst of flames licked the air where his face had been- burning his shoulder instead. He yelled out in pain, the fire catching onto his shirt. 

His mother ran in with a fire extinguisher and white foam sprayed everywhere in a panicked haze, eyes widening when she saw her son on fire, aiming at him while screaming words that Yeosang couldn’t understand because his ears were ringing. 

Suddenly, all was silent.

The fire was gone.

And as the first whispers of comfort after the incident started floating into the smoke filled air, Yeosang could’ve sworn he heard someone laughing in the distance, singing with glee.

Yeosang didn’t remember making his way out of the lecture hall. He stood in front of the library doors, blinking slowly as people walked in and out, sparing him nothing more than a glance or two as they went past. 

An arm hung over his shoulder. Yeosang turned his head, coming face to face with a wide, toothy grin. 

“You look out of it,” Wooyung twitched his brow in one swift motion, waiting for a response. Yeosang rolled his eyes, shoving his arm off of him and walking towards the exit. “Thanks, Wooyoung. Your compliments never fail to fluster me.”   
  
“I’m serious!” the whimsical boy bounded after him, falling in step with Yeosang’s pace. “You have that weird, faraway look in your eyes again.”   
  
“Stop looking into my eyes.”   
  
“Yeosang-”   
  
“It’s creepy.”   
  
“Take me seriously!” Wooyoung whined, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I know you. I know what it looks like when you’re on edge. Now stop being a prick and talk to me.”   
  
Yeosang sighed in defeat; Wooyoung was right. There was no hiding from him.   
  
“The voices.”   
  
Wooyoung frowned- not in surprise, but in concern. “Again? It’s only been a few days since the last wave.” (wave is what they called the time periods in which the voices would return every few months; usually about a week)   
  
Yeosang shook his head. “I don’t know...they’ve been more frequent. I feel so uneasy…”   
  
“...maybe you should contact your therapist again-”

“Wooyoung, she can’t help me,” he sighed. “You know that. I’m not a regular case of schizophrenia. No amount of treatment has helped me in any way, I just keep getting worse-”

“You might think that, but you can’t drop out of therapy just because you don’t see it working.”   
  
“I don’t need therapy, Wooyoung!” he growled in agitation, spinning swiftly to pin his friend with a fiery glare. “This isn’t a mental disorder. This is real. I know it is.”   
  
Wooyoung flinched at his outburst, lips pressing into a thin line. “It isn’t real-”

“Then how do you explain all the things that happen when the voices come back?” he cut him off, panting heavily. “The first time, at my birthday party. I heard the voices before the fire started. I heard someone say ‘he’s here’ into my ear and suddenly the house was on fire. The second time, three months later. I heard the voices again, telling me he’s coming, he’s coming- I was panicking, I didn’t know what to do, then Mingi walked out of the store and I ran to him. A split second later, a fire escape broke off and crashed right where I was standing! If I hadn’t been with Mingi, I would have been dead. Every time the voices come back, something bad happens, and those sure as hell aren’t hallucinations.” 

Wooyoung was silent, brow furrowed as his eyes studied Yeosang’s face, his lips pursed worriedly. “Yeosang, I- I don’t know...whether it’s real or not...b-but I don’t know what else to do,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help, but...I can’t help you with something I don’t hear. I just want you to be okay…"

Yeosang felt his heart pang in guilt, his angry expression softening. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just...frustrated.” Wooyoung nodded in understanding, taking slow strides towards him before wrapping his arms around Yeosang’s small frame, hugging him to his chest. Yeosang exhaled, eyes fluttering closed as his muscles relaxed into his friend’s warmth. “I know you’re hurting. I wish there was more I could do.”

_ You don’t have to do anything _ , is what Yeosang wanted to say in reply.  _ But you still do. Thank you _ . But the words were stuck in his throat, so he opted to hugging Wooyoung a little tighter. The boy gave a light hum, as if understanding

Yeosang could always depend on Wooyoung to understand him, even when he was too at a loss of words to speak.   
  
Yeosang didn’t know what was wrong with him.   
  
He was a very logical person. Analyzing and categorising everything that happened to him had always come easy to him. 

So when no amount of logic could explain all of this, he knew there had to be something wrong.   
  
When the voices had first started to bug him, he did what seemed the most logical thing to do- research about it. 

_ Disorders that make you hear voices that aren’t there _ , he’d typed into the search bar.   
  
His next course of action was telling his mother. Concerned, she’d made an appointment with a therapist, and he’d soon been diagnosed with schizophrenia.   
  
And at first, he believed it.   
  
But then things started happening. He started noticing a pattern- whenever the voices slithered into the recessions of his mind yet again, something bad always happened.   
  
It was as if something was out to kill him.

And when he’d come to that conclusion, he knew.

_ I’m not normal. _   
  
He couldn’t leave the house alone. He always, always needed someone with him. He slept in his little brother’s room, who’d protested at first, but after seeing the genuine fear in his eyes, had accepted it. He kept looking over his shoulder, looking for death hiding in the shadows, waiting for the moment it would pounce on him like a predator does for its prey.

No amount of therapy could explain that.   
  
He always had a taser in one pocket, and a pocket knife in the other. The door to his room had three heavy duty locks, his window blacked out with cement. His mother tried everything to get him to “stop this madness, I’m worried about you, please talk to me, baby please-”

He couldn’t talk to her. Not about this.   
  
Not only would she not understand, but he didn’t want to put her life at risk along with his own. Wooyoung was the only one who knew, because, as always, he managed to pry it out of him as soon as Wooyoung could tell that he was hiding something.   
  
And his dreams- no,  _ nightmares _ \- they were so real that it became hard to differentiate between dream and reality. The only way for him to really tell the difference was the lack of bloody guts strewn across his room when he woke up. 

But they were just  _ so real _ .   
  
Yeosang stared at the wall across from his bed, studying the messy drawings and scribbles on papers strewn across the surface. He’d started recording whatever he’d noticed; connections, nightmares, anything. Not knowing what the fuck was happening was driving him insane.   
  
He needed to know.

He found the people who strictly believed that “out of this world” occurrences don’t exist to be absurdly foolish; how arrogant would one have to be to think all we can see is what is true? How blindly confident do you have to be to think that a human’s perception of the world around them is all there is? Truly, it was the arrogance of the human race that would be Earth’s doom. 

Yeosang knew better.

He gulped at the drawings of blurs of red eyes, claws digging into bloodied skin, red handprints sprinkling the hallways. 

He didn’t understand.    
  
None of it made sense.

A  _ ding! _ startled him out of his thoughts. He looked over at his phone, picking it up and clicking on the notification.

wooshit 💩: [link]

wooshit 💩: dude 

wooshit 💩: it’s an escape room 

wooshit 💩: we have to go!!!

yeosuck 🍆: i still hate you for making this my name

wooshit 💩: you changed mine to wooshit first 

wooshit 💩: look forget about that look at the link!!

wooshit 💩: it looks so fucking sick

yeosuck 🍆: you can’t watch Coraline without crying my guy

wooshit 💩: it’s an escape room!! it isnt scary!!

wooshit 💩: you just have to be clever 

yeosuck 🍆: you don’t fit the criterion

wooshit 💩: OH FUCK YOU 

wooshit 💩: just for that, you’re paying for the tickets

Yeosang sighed, rolling his eyes and clicking on the link. He scrolled through the website, lips forming a thin line. It seemed entertaining enough, plus he’d been to an escape room before. He clicked his tongue, buying three tickets; one for him, one for Wooyoung, and one for his little brother.

  
  
yeosuck 🍆: got the tickets, one for yongsun too

wooshit 💩: THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOU

Yeosang exhaled tiredly, getting up and checking the locks on his door, his window, and keeping the taser under his pillow. He laid down, staring up at the ceiling, his features set in a blank expression. 

_ Living like this is torture _ , he thought solemnly.

**_Oh, Yeosang. You know nothing of torture yet._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoyed it!! will be updating it again soon ~ again, leave feedback, crticism, anything! i love comments and interacting w my readers.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! please leave some comments, uwu. i'd love any feedback, criticism, or just comment whatever the hell you want! make me smile ^^


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